


Tainted Love

by the_last_dillards



Series: Kinktober 2020 [20]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Corruption, Emotional Hurt/No Comfort, Kinktober, M/M, Post-Canon, Section 31 (Star Trek)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27118531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_last_dillards/pseuds/the_last_dillards
Summary: What a fool Garak had been to ever want to see his lover made cynical and cold.Kinktober Day 20: Corruption
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Kinktober 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945888
Comments: 26
Kudos: 48





	Tainted Love

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing violent or graphically awful happens in this story. It's just depressing and sad.
> 
> Assume Garak has been permanently re-exiled from Cardassia.

Bashir held him down in a cruel mimicry of the way he once used to. 

Where there had once been firm but caring touches, courtesy of having a doctor for a lover, was now an indifferent hold.

Each thrust was cold, mechanical, passionless. No violence to it, but certainly no love either.

That had long since been withered away with Bashir’s involvement in Section 31. 

What a fool Garak had been to ever want to see his lover made cynical and cold. It had been a selfish desire, driven by jealousy at seeing that idealism thrive while his own had been crushed far too young. 

Garak hadn’t been there for him. Had let the decay spread through him just under his nose and in the end, it had killed Bashir. Or at least, everything that had made Bashir, _Julian._

Now in his place was a stranger that wore his flesh.

Garak almost wished the creature were a changeling instead. But he’d raked his nails down Bashir’s back often enough, finding blood and skin and nothing more under them after the fact, that he knew that wasn’t the case.

So Garak submitted. Accepted this cruel fate.

Why the two of them even bothered anymore, he didn’t know. The release they got from it was purely physical. And with each exchange, the mental anguish only compounded.

They didn’t kiss. They didn’t even bite.

Instead, they aroused themselves like automatons, in the most mechanical, perfunctory way possible before forcing orgasms out of each other. Garak might as well be fucking some sort of robot for all it was worth.

Their positions were limited to three. 

Garak on his back. 

Garak on his front. 

Garak bent over a flat surface.

And it was always Garak.

He was much quicker to prep. Always prelubricated for easy penetration. 

Bashir took much too long to prepare, too much intimacy in the process. And they didn’t dare put their mouths near each other’s genitals any more.

Their fucks were a quick thing. Get off and get out. 

The mess was by far the worst of it. Sitting in Garak after the deed was done and dripping out, requiring time and effort to clean himself out. 

Maybe it was symbolic in some way. That Bashir would empty himself of all that once was and leave Garak to clean up the consequences. To remember and long for the past.

There had once been a time, back when Bashir had been Julian, that Julian was sweet to him. Gentle. Eager to please. He’d been like a hound, wild in his passions and perhaps a bit uncoordinated but well intentioned. Hot blooded and warm in every which way; their lovemaking, often an amorous frenzy that ended with cuddling and words of affirmation. 

Where Julian had warmed him more than any sun, Bashir was absolute zero. Realistically, he was physically the same; full of mammalian heat. But to Garak, he seemed rigid and frosty; an ice man. The room always felt colder when he walked into it, lingering long after he'd left.

Perhaps, Garak should've let him go already. Accepted that his Julian was no more and rejected this stranger when he next appeared in Garak’s quarters. 

But he knew he wouldn’t. 

Couldn’t. 

Because he’d become inseparably devoted to Julian. In the same way he had been with Tain, the same way he was with Cardassia. He could never simply walk away so long as there was even a chance that Julian, or whomever wore his face now, still wanted him. 

If Bashir told him to throw himself out an airlock, he would do it.

And so for now, he would look into Bashir’s tired dead eyes, allow his frigid embrace, and dream of days gone by.

**Author's Note:**

> Soo this is actually the second story I wrote for this prompt. The first version got way, way too long and complicated. Over 3k of set up without even broaching the sexy bits, and I just didn’t have time to work on that. It is something I plan to eventually complete, just with the time put into it that it deserves. As such, this fic was slightly last minute, but for anyone curious, does occupy a similar universe to the first version.
> 
> A kudo a day keeps the doctor away. Kudos and comments abound brings him back around. (I'm a poet and I didn't even know it :D)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tainted Love [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27697871) by [yohlenyaoilover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yohlenyaoilover/pseuds/yohlenyaoilover)




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